Mark Me
by realtrashwriting
Summary: Soul's not keen on the idea of getting a tatoo but Maka's determined to get one. To be clear, it's not that Soul's going soft, but what Maka wants, she gets. For SoMa Week 2016.


**For SoMa Week 2016's Prompt 4: Ink**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater**

* * *

 **Mark Me**

Soul had always been a little wary of needles. He thought it was ironic that he could transform into a deadly scythe with the ability to slice through demons and consume their twisted souls, but could not face the reality of a small, sharp object puncturing his skin without resistance. This struck both Soul and his partner as an odd fear, but considering that the pair of them had experienced their fair share of medicinal and IV needles, it was something they joked about. They didn't bring it up until the topic popped up in conversation, heard it mentioned by their teachers and friends, or, as was the case now, when Maka was trying to convince Soul to let her get a tattoo.

"You're just saying no because you're squeamish. I have no problems with them."

" _You_ wield a giant scythe every day. Sharp things don't phase you. But me? I actually _am_ the sharp thing, and while I'm not afraid of myself, that doesn't mean I have to trust needles."

"Soul, come on. It will only hurt me for a few minutes. It's not like I'm getting a tramp stamp or something huge and outrageous down my back."

"That's not a good excuse and you know it."

"It's not an excuse. I'm trying to reason with you. Haven't you ever wanted a mark that you choose that will stay with you forever?"

He raised a pale eyebrow. "I've got a scar, thank you very much, that I _chose_ to get."

Maybe bringing up one of their most painful memories hadn't been the best thing, but he knew it held weight for her. Its significance resonated even now between them.

"Not what I meant. Besides, you were fine with it initially."

"That's because you said you were just going with Tsubaki for _her_ tattoo."

"She's getting a star to honour Black*Star."

"And what do you think you want to get?"

"I don't think I want to get it, Soul, I _know_ I'm going to get it."

Soul ran a tired hand over his face. "Fine. Go. I tried my best. If you want to go, then go. Just make sure that its what you really want. You're going to have it when you're old and wrinkly, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Her eyes were firm and set. "I've decided that I'm going to see this through."

"I don't condone things that hurt you. It's not cool," he grumbled and Maka sashayed over knowing that her battle had been won."

"Thank you, Soul," she said sweetly, coming over to rest her head on top of his. Her arms smoothed down his chest, and Maka's fingers linked themselves together at his navel.

"Whatever."

Maka leaned over the slouched form of her partner and smiled at him upside down. "Hey, Soul?"

"No, Maka, I don't want a tattoo."

"Are you sure? We could match." Her hair dribbled down her shoulders and came over to tickle the exposed skin of his neck. Soul stared at his partner's eyes.

"Not interested."

"Will you drive me?" she asked instead.

He narrowed his eyes. "Is that why you're suddenly being so sweet? To charm me into giving you a ride?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

Soul hesitated before confirming that it was.

"Then yes, that is what I'm doing."

"You're going to give yourself a head rush," Soul pointed out as she kissed his forehead. "I mean it." She pulled back only to slide over the arm of the love seat and into his lap. "Now, that's not fair."

" _Please_ , Soul."

"Fine, fine." Just as smoothly as she charmed him, she got off and pulled Soul to his feet with a laugh.

"Come on, let's go."

* * *

"Hold my hand."

"If I hold your hand, I'm going to be way too close to the needle."

"Suck it up and hold my hand." Maka reached out to him from her seat. She watched him trudge off the couch from the mirror and opened her hand. Soul slid his palm over hers with practiced ease. He stood next to her, eyes fixed decidedly away from his topless meister.

The tattoo artist giggled softly at them but held her tongue.

"Is it over?"

"Soul, I think you would- _ouch_!"

He looked over reflexively and his eyes widened at the swirling 's' shaped like a treble clef. It was a small thing that sat just over her left breast in a spot by her heart. The shape was reddened and raw, but extremely small in black ink. He half thought it was nothing more than a sticker.

"Oh."

"Surprise?" she said a bit half-heartedly with blush firmly fixed in her cheeks. "I wasn't going to show you until she finished working on it. So you wouldn't have to see the needle."

"That's...helpful."

"Yeah," sighed Maka, "but it's a bit late now. Oh well." They waited while the artist cleaned the blood and leftover ink from Maka's skin with a few quick swipes. "What do you think?"

"I think that you have no idea what you've got on your chest now."

"It's a clef!" she indignantly. "I _know_ what it is."

Every tattoo meant something; Soul knew that much. People got tattoos as symbols and reminders. The star on Tsubaki's skin mimicked Black*Star, a weapon's homage to her meister. It bellied the amount of respect she held for Black*Star alongside her affectionate dedication. He was her sun and stars and the tattoo said enough. The fact that Maka didn't understand music coupled with the fact that she had permanently gotten the notation on her skin made it that much more meaningful. She knew what music meant to him. The significance was not for her, but for Soul instead. It was a symbol of what he loved, something that would mark her skin for all eternity.

Soul wasn't entirely sure why he was both touched and embarrassed by the decision but he was just so anyway.

"Do you like it?"

"It's nice," he said, scrambling for words of any kind of use to describe the lengths Maka had gone through to get a symbol of him (basically) inked right over her heart.

"I figure it's small enough to hide so I won't have to worry about people looking at it if I wear a dress, you know?"

"I know," he nodded, before quickly turning away. She didn't have to say anymore, but he knew she would anyway. "Why a treble clef?"

"For you." She squeezed his hand and confirmed everything that he had just thought of. So it had been for him after all.

"You' didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she said simply, detaching her hands and setting them on his chest. "It _is_ like your scar. It's for you and I chose to get it. Simple as that."

"That seems kind of stupid," he said brusquely, although he very much wanted to say that it was also kind of beautiful.

"Thanks." She beamed up at him and Soul melted a little.


End file.
